My daughter, my story
by silverbirch
Summary: You know her as one of the Golden Trio. I know her as Hermione, my daugher. I am John Granger, and this is my story. JKR owns, I borrow. This is about a teenage girl growing up, hence the rating. Reviews are very welcome.
1. Chapter 1

My wife, Jean, snuggled up beside me as I tucked the quilt around us. The change in her breathing told me she had quickly fallen asleep, but I lay there looking up at the ceiling. It had been a very long day – and I'd had a few drinkypoos – but sleep wouldn't come. There were too many memories, the most recent being me giving my daughter to another man.

I'm John Granger, Hermione's father, and we've just got back from her wedding. It's strange, I know, but I'd never given much thought before to a father "giving away" his daughter. I'd always thought of it as one of those old meaningless traditions, but it wasn't. I'd led her up the aisle, handed her over to her husband-to-be and walked away. Twenty minutes later, she wasn't Hermione Granger, she was Hermione Weasley, and married to Ron. It felt like I'd handed over a part of my heart. It wasn't even as if they were moving to Timbuktu and we wouldn't see them again. They had a house near his parents in Ottery St Catchpole, only about an hours drive from us.

No, what had put me in this reflective mood was that I was no longer the Number 1 man in her life. Truth be told, I hadn't been for a long time. They'd been living together –"shacked up" as Jean put it, especially when she wanted to shock my mother – for a few years now, but this was the final confirmation my little girl was a grown woman.

At big life changing moments, I always get reflective. I did the day she was born, when I finally got back from the hospital. I couldn't sleep then, either.

-o0o-

Jean and I had known each other for many years. She was the receptionist at my first dental practise. Mr. Thompson was the owner, and he was always Mr. Thompson. I was Granger, only Mr. Granger in front of the patients. There was no insult or slur intended or taken, that's just the way things were in those days. The receptionist was Miss. Wilkinson; it was several weeks before I knew her first name.

I suppose it was natural that we should gravitate towards each other. Mr. Thompson – I never called him anything else, even after he'd retired – was so much older we didn't have much in common. He thought "The Beatles" were insects, and wondered why we were suddenly so enthralled with entomology; he even offered to show us his butterfly collection. Jean and I struggled desperately to avoid each other's eyes for the rest of the day. That was the first time we realised we were something more than colleagues.

It was shortly after that Jean confided her big secret to me. She'd always planned on being a dentist herself. There had been some kind of hiatus during her A-levels – she hinted there was a boy involved – so had never been able to get to University. It was an almost off-hand comment of mine that she should retake them and go for her dream.

Well, she took me up on it. I was always proud of her, though it did put our relationship on hold for a while – 8 years to be exact, whilst she retook her exams, then went off to University to study and get her post grad experience. I suppose I was worried she'd meet somebody else, we were never "officially" dating, but she never did.

Shortly after she qualified, Mr. Thompson announced his retirement and I bought the practice from him, Jean joining as my assistant. It was a hectic couple of years; juggling the new business and the finances. A couple of times I almost ran out of money and the overdraft was stretched to its limit, but I got through somehow.

We still weren't "going steady", but spent all our time together. One day, I'm not sure what it was, but I saw something in her face – maybe a smile or a look – and I knew exactly what I wanted so I proposed, right there in the surgery. A year later we married.

We didn't worry too much about children. Truth be told we wondered if we were too old. I was 36, Jean 31 when we finally tied the knot and that was old in those days, so it seemed little short of a miracle when Jean told me she was pregnant almost three years later. It had been a rather good Christmas, I suppose!! It was our first skiing holiday, our first real break in years, and the gluhwine just got us nice and relaxed.

The pregnancy went off surprising well. Because of her age (Jean was fast approaching 34) she was under close medical supervision. As I said, she was considered old for a first timer. The doctors told her to stop work and rest lots. Because of that, perhaps, things just went ahead. Even before she was born, my baby was as good as gold. Then, on the 19th September 1979, we were "safely delivered" of a little girl. She was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen - so small, so fragile.

We, Jean actually, picked the name Hermione, she'd read it in Shakespeare somewhere, so I suggest Jean as a second name. Jean was adamant, she never liked her name, said it made her sound old, so the compromise was Jane. After a few days in hospital, they came home, and we started a whole new phase of our lives – as a family.

-o0o-

If I'd known then what I know now, it would have explained a lot. Even though I didn't have much experience with children, it was obvious to me that Hermione wasn't a "normal" child. I know it may shock you to hear a parent say that, but she wasn't.

She never cried, for a start. She smiled lots, and laughed and loved to be hugged, but she never cried. She was slightly precocious as well. Being new parents, we read all the childcare books we could, and she was always a couple of months ahead – you name it; crawling, standing, walking, talking and especially reading.

We're both avid readers, so it was obvious we would encourage a love of books, but with Hermione (sorry, we never got round to a pet name, or shortening it – even now she is Hermione to us) it went to a whole new level. She didn't just read books, she devoured them. Books were the cause of her first telling off, and the first indication something was very different.

I'd gone up to her room one day, Hermione would have been about 4 years old, and she was playing. Well, playing for her. All the toys were lined up in ordered rows, and she was reading to them. There were books everywhere; it was like an explosion in a bookshop. I told her to tidy up immediately, the place looked like a tip and she wasn't to come down until it was done.

I swear, no more than three minutes later she was in the living room smiling, telling me she'd done it. I, of course, said she hadn't and to stop being silly. The more she insisted, the crosser I got. Hermione had never lied before, never even told a little fib. Was it her age?

'Right, let's go and look. I think you'll be going to bed without any supper, young lady.'

Of course, the room was perfect. Every book was back on the shelves - ordered by Author and Title.

-o0o-

Things didn't change much when she started school. Even there, she was different. But, what worried us most was that she didn't seem to be able to make friends. We thought it was our fault. Perhaps I should explain.

We'd bought a house in an "Executive Development", only 12 houses in a cul-de-sac. Very middle class and self-contained, with most of the neighbours being our age or older. That meant there no children of her age to play with. Her first school was private, so she was dropped off and picked up every day by one of us. We tried to get her interested in the things we thought little girls should do – ballet, tennis or horse riding - but it all came to nothing. All that seemed to occupy her was reading. Hermione confided one day that she thought her classmates 'rather childish'. She occasionally went to birthday parties, and had some herself, but preferred to celebrate with a small dinner party for just the three of us. We were concerned she was missing out, but didn't know what to do about it.

The "happenings" carried on as well. It was nothing you could ever put your finger on. For example, she used to jump down the stairs. Most children do that, I know, but she jumped from half way and did seem to fall slightly slower than Newton would have predicted. Then there were the times she was sent upstairs to get something. We could never work out how she did it so quickly, she hardly seemed to have the time to get to the stairs, let alone up them and back again.

Apart from that, she was growing up, and to my (perhaps prejudiced) eye becoming a real beauty. OK, her incisors were a little prominent, but as dentists we new that could be fixed with time and braces. It was time to consider her next school.

We decided that continuing with private education would be best for her. To be honest, we weren't sure if she would be tough enough to handle the local state school. I suppose it was us being over protective and she would have been fine, but…well. We'd pretty much settled on a place for her at a girl's school, Marchioness House, and she'd passed the entrance exam with a mark that frankly astounded us. I knew she was good, but this was exceptional. The other thing that got me was the effect she had on the Head Mistress. The interview lasted about a minute. Hermione looked at her and smiled and suddenly …

'Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Granger that will be perfect. I'm sure your daughter will be very happy here, and we look forward to welcoming her in September. We will send you a uniform and book list in due course.'

That was the entire conversation.

Everything was settled, we were very pleased. Hermione seemed happy.

Then the letter arrived.

(A/N For our American friends, "A-levels" are the exams taken in the UK at 18 and required for University places. They are equivalent to NEWTS)


	2. Chapter 2 The Letter

It was a normal day, a Saturday, and the post arrived. How normal can you get?

Hermione brought the letters through in to the kitchen. There was one for her in a rather luxurious envelope, I remember, very thick expensive paper. (It turned out to be parchment, which I'd never seen before).

'From Marchioness House?' I asked.

Hermione shook her head. 'I think it must be an advert for a new toy shop in the town' she replied 'It's called "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry". That's a bit of a mouthful. Look, they sell joke things like cauldrons and dressing up clothes. For parties and things, I suppose.'

The letter was cast aside, and not given another thought. It wasn't something that would appeal to her.

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Jean got up to answer it, and a few moments later called me to come out to her. There, standing on our doorstep was a woman who could only be described as "strange". She was tall and thin, wearing what looked like a robe – and a witch's hat. Black and pointed, just like you would see in a comic.

'Good Morning. I am Professor McGonagall, and I represent Hogwarts School. You have received our letter?'

Great, a follow up visit from a toy shop.

'Yes, thank you' I always remain polite, they're only trying to make a living after all 'it arrived this morning. We might pop in when we're next out shopping, but to be honest, I don't think it will interest us much. Good bye.'

'Mr. Granger, I'm afraid you do not appear to understand. I am here from Hogwarts School to offer you daughter a place there. She has the abilities we are interested in.'

I don't know what it was that made me take an interest in her. Perhaps the accent, one I call "Edinburgh Morningside" or may she just did some Hocus Pocus on us, but we realised she was serious and invited her in.

'You have come to our attention' this McGonagall explained, speaking directly to Hermione 'because you have certain skills we are looking for. You can make things happen, just by thinking it, can you not?' Hermione nodded. 'Can you show me?'

Hermione looked around the kitchen and saw a book, of course. She reached her hand out towards it and it FLEW across the room to her. I'm not sure even now if I can explain what I felt. My question came out something like 'Mibble..wibble..errr..'

She looked at me and a frown crossed her face, she looked almost afraid and came to sit on my lap.

'I've been able to that for ages, daddy. Can't everybody?'

All I could do was hug her.

The Professor stayed with us for about an hour, patiently going through the letter and answering our questions. Hermione had decided right away that this school was for her, and we felt some kind of relief. She would be with people who were like her. It sounds terrible saying it now, but she would be with her own sort. Other children who were "different".

We discovered that all Hermione's school equipment could be purchased in a place called Diagon Alley in London, that she would take exams and had the potential for a whole career in the magical world, which had a hidden but parallel existence to our own world. She would travel to and from school – there were the normal three terms a year – by train from King's Cross. Term started on September 1st.

I won't say much about that first shopping expedition. I know you are aware of Diagon Alley, probably knowing it better than we did, certainly that first time. To be honest, there was so much going on that we couldn't really take it all in. Hermione was more excited than I've ever seen her before, running around like the child she'd never been.

The bookshop – Flourish and Blotts – was the star attraction for her obviously, though I liked the Goblins at the bank. As well as the standard book list she persuaded us to get several others. I think she would have liked to buy the entire stock. One she bought, and I read before she left, was "Hogwarts: A History". It was a fascinating book, and answered a lot of our questions. The most impressive shop was the one where she bought her wand, "Ollivander's". I think that was what finally persuaded me this was all for real. The wand we got her was an absolute beauty – vine and dragon something. She told us later that vine is the wood the Celts associated with September, the month she was born in.

The summer slipped away all too quickly, and August was drawing to a close. Jean and Hermione started to spend a lot of time together. There were numerous shopping trips I was definitely not invited on, and lots of discussions which stopped whenever I entered the room. Apparently, these were all about "Nothing", so I assumed they were "Women's things" and wisely kept my head down.

August 31st saw us having a lovely meal in a local restaurant, and then it was up early the next morning to make our way to London. I'm not sure which one of us was more nervous. Hermione seemed to know exactly where she was going and led us on to the platform. This was another experience like Diagon Alley, and confirmation that our only daughter was entering a whole new world, one we couldn't share with her.

All around were children and parents shouting, the steam from the train, and the calls of owls and cats. Hermione changed in to her robes almost immediately. I think she felt this was a place she belonged, so wanted to become part of it as soon as possible.

Jean and I stood there, not knowing quite what to say. Perhaps we didn't want to give ourselves away to our daughter, because tears weren't that far below the surface. Then it was time for kisses and hugs and 'Be good' and 'Don't forget to write' and 'I love you'. The train pulled out of the station carrying our only child away from us. She wasn't yet 12.

Jean was tearful for the rest of the day, and I wasn't far behind. Home felt strangely empty. We realised it was the first night she had ever not been there without us. Where was she and, more importantly, how was she? Had we done the right thing? We thought so, but only time would tell.

The first letter would take an awfully long time to arrive.


	3. Chapter 3 Off to Hogwarts

We watched the post for the next few days. I'm afraid to say we were so desperate to catch the postman that a few early appointments were messed up and we had to sooth some irate patients. The letter finally arrived, but not via the front door.

It was about 8pm, a few days later. We'd finished dinner, and had just settled down for the rest of the evening when there came a tapping at the dining room window. I couldn't work out what it was to begin with, and certainly didn't expect to see an OWL of all things when I finally opened the curtains. Not only was it an owl, but it had a letter tied to its leg. Not quite certain of my sanity, I opened the window, and the owl flew in, perching on the dining table.

The letter was from Hermione, and we were pleased to see it was quite chatty. I think we were half expecting a tear stained plea to come home immediately. It was mainly concerned with her journey to the school, and the people she had spoken to – who all seemed to be boys. Neville, Ron and Harry. Apparently, this Harry was quite famous as his parents had died when he was young, but he couldn't remember any of it. We were also told that she had been sorted by a hat (we assumed she meant placed after some kind of raffle) in to Gryffindor House, which seemed to please her. She shared a room with two other girls called Lavender and Parvati, and they seemed quite nice, though mainly interested in "boys and clothes and make-up. I'm not sure we'll be very good friends". There was a bit about lessons, and she'd already learned some magic and used her wand. Finally, what a surprise, we received a detailed description of the library, which had more books than she had ever seen in her life. She added kisses and hugs, and that was it.

The owl was still sat on the table (she had asked us to give it a drink of water) so we hastily scribbled a reply saying we were very pleased and proud, and to write again soon. We worked out that these owls were our only form of communication, so wanted plenty of opportunities.

The letters continued to arrive through that September and October, but we noticed a subtle change in them. They were now mainly a description of lessons, and homework results. Apparently, she wasn't getting on too well with the potions teachers. What was missing were the names. She never once mentioned any school chums. Jean and I looked at each other with sad eyes. Once more, our darling daughter had failed to make any friends. The difference this time was that she didn't have any family to come home to of an evening. With no real information we of course imaged the worst, picturing her sitting there day after day, on her own, with only her books for company. It affected our replies to her. We didn't want to make it sound fun at home, emphasising what she was missing. Instead, we concentrated on plans for Christmas, to give her something to look forward to. We had already decided that we would talk to her then, and that she didn't have to return if she didn't want to. But, everything was about to change, and how.

I let Jean get the first letter that arrived in November. To be honest, I didn't particularly want to read it, and see my little girl getting even sadder. It was Jean's strangled "Oh my God" that made me look up. She handed the letter to me with trembling hands and a white face.

Hermione had been attacked, and nearly killed, by a TROLL. I had to read that several times to take it in. As far as I was concerned, trolls lived under bridges and ate Billy Goats Gruff. Not at Hogwarts, apparently. There, trolls attacked twelve year old girls in toilets.

We sent two letters back with the owl. The first was to Hermione, telling her to make arrangements for us to come up there immediately, we were bringing her home. The second was to the so-called Headmaster, asking what the hell he was playing at, and why he didn't have proper security measures in place, and that we were removing our daughter at once. Grazed knees I could cope with, and expected. Flesh eating monsters, I couldn't and wouldn't.

Two letters came back the next day, by separate owls.

'Dear Mummy and Daddy,

The troll was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me!! I'm NOT coming home, because I love it here. Ron and Harry, who saved me, have become my friends, and we help each other with homework and sit together for meals and in classes. I love learning magic, and wouldn't be happy anywhere else now.

Anyway, it's the first Quidditch match on Saturday, and Harry is flying and he's the youngest Seeker in a hundred years, so I want to watch.

I will see you at Christmas.

Love Hermione'

To be honest most of that went straight over our heads, apart from the clear fact she wanted to stay put.

'Dear Mr. & Mrs. Granger,

Thank you for your letter. We are currently investigating how the troll entered the castle, incidentally disrupting a rather excellent Halloween feast in the process. I was particularly looking forward to the Steak and Kidney Pudding on offer. I should point out that Hogwarts is home to several magical animal species, and such events do, from time to time, occur.

It pains me to inform you that the danger to Miss Granger was exacerbated by her own actions, for which she has been disciplined by her Head of House. Having been ordered to return to the safety of her House Common Room, she chose instead to try to tackle the troll on her own. It was only the swift actions of two of her classmates that recovered the situation.

Your daughter has made a promising start to her career at Hogwarts, and I feel it would be a great pity to remove her at this time. However, I must ask you to impose upon her the importance of obeying rules and instructions.

I remain, your faithful servant

Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore

Order of Merlin 1st Class, Grand Sorc. etc etc

Headmaster'

Our Hermione? Breaking rules? Making friends? We sat and thought and talked, and in the end decided to do nothing. But, Little Missy would be getting a talking to when she got home.

-o0o-

Once the "Rules are made to be followed, young lady" speech was out of the way (it was years later we heard the true story from Ron) we had a wonderful Christmas. Hermione was full of tales of her friends and their adventures, of Quidditch (which she explained to us) and all the things she was learning. It was obvious she loved the place and couldn't wait to get back. We'd never seen her so happy. Even the Troll incident now seemed little more than a jolly jape, so it was with much lighter hearts we put her back on the train in January. One day, we would learn.

Hermione decided to stay at school for Easter, pleading revision. The end of year exams were important to her, so we were happy to let her stay. Mind you, how much work she actually did is debateable, because a few weeks later, we had our second letter from the school.

Hermione was in trouble again, having been caught outside of her dorm after curfew, sneaking around a deserted tower with this boy Harry. My mind went through several levels of insanity trying to work out exactly what she had been up to in said deserted tower with said boy. Every iteration only made things worse. There was no way we could ever tell my mother about this. To hell with everything else, Jean had better have "The Talk" with her when she got home.

Our letter to her was fairly straight and to the point, viz; you'd better have a damned good explanation my girl.

She did, and let's be honest it's not one you could make up.

'Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm sorry I let you down and got in to trouble. Harry and I were trying to smuggle (Smuggle?) an illegal (Illegal?) dragon (DRAGON!!???) out of the country, and got caught. It was only a baby dragon, but we couldn't say what actually happened because that would get somebody else in to trouble.

Anyway, we lost 50 house points each, and so did another boy but he was trying to help and so it's not fair he should be punished too. We've got detention too, and Professor McGonagall is very angry with us all. All the other people in the House are upset as well, because now we're in last place for the house cup and I'm really ashamed. But, please mummy and daddy, I was trying to do things for the best.

I'm sorry,

Hermione.'

Girls will be girls, eh? After all, it was only a baby dragon.

Things calmed down a little after that. Every exam was followed by a detailed letter home, the conclusion tending to be that she'd done very badly and probably failed. Hermione's always had this tendency to put herself down. We know she's fantastically intelligent, and had never failed a test in her life, but she worries. It think it's what powers her, she's determined to be the best, but it's never a case of good enough. There is always room for improvement until she finally gets to perfection.

The end of term finished with a bit of a bang. My nerves had already been shot to hell on several occasions, but this was the biggy. The trouble with having a child at boarding school is you never know what's happened until it's over. That is probably the best way. I began to dread owls arriving in pairs.

At least this time, the letter from the Headmaster was full of praise. She and her friends had saved the school, and apparently the whole world, from some terrible danger by a mixture of "courage, nerve and cool logic" and would be suitably rewarded at the end of term feast.

Hermione's letter went in to more detail about how they had had to overcome a series of challenges to stop the wizard that had tried to kill her friend Harry years ago from trying to do so again, but it was Harry who actually beat him because she was rescuing her friend Ron who had been knocked out. So everything was fine, and we weren't to worry. Ye Gods. Once again, the discussion "Should we take her out of there" came to nothing.

We have never been so pleased to see her as we were at King's cross a few days later. I'm sure the hugs we gave embarrassed her in front of her friends, but we didn't care. At least we had her home in one piece, and that was all that mattered.

In the end, it even turned out the exams were fine. Actually, she came top of the year. I know I shouldn't, but I'm adding that because a dad has the right to gloat every now and again.

It had been one hell of a year, but our precious daughter had learned and grown, and made some friends at last. She was happy, and we were happy for her.

We could look forward to some time together over the summer, and next year couldn't be as bad as this, could it?

In blissful ignorance, we walked out in to the sunshine and back to the car.


	4. Chapter 4 Crushes and Hospitals

We managed to get away as a family for a while over the summer, and Hermione filled us in on a few more details of her adventure at the end of the term. I was quite impressed by the coolness she'd shown under pressure, especially working out the logic puzzle. I'm no good at those kinds of things at all; she must have her mum's brains.

This thing with the wizard-who-didn't-have-a-name worried me, but she seemed remarkably calm about it. Apparently, her friend Harry had managed to defeat him again, so that was that. She was probably safer at school than wandering around the streets where we live.

There was a steady stream of letters going between her and Ron. We were getting quite used to owls turning up on the window sill, but she seemed worried about Harry. She'd written to him regularly, but he'd never replied. I pointed out that some people aren't very good a letter writing, especially young boys. He was probably too busy playing computer games.

We were due another trip to Diagon Alley, and she'd arranged to meet her friends there. Harry had turned up out-of-the-blue at Ron's house. Jean and I were quite looking forward to meeting another set of parents, especially ones who were actually wizards themselves. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were a charming couple, to begin with. She was rather mumsy, and he seemed very interested in our world – the "Muggle" one he called it. We finally met Ron and Harry as well. They seemed nice enough, in that rather awkward way young boys have when meeting adults for the first time, all breaking voices and staring at shoes.

We were getting along great guns until we turned up at the bookshop. It was crowded out because there was a book signing by a famous wizard. The man looked an absolute poseur to me, no way was that hair natural. He reminded me of a chat show host, but I suppose fame is fame everywhere. He seemed to know Harry as well and dragged him up on to the stage. Perhaps he was famous.

Then, I'm not sure quite how it happened, Mr. Weasley ended up brawling in the shop with some other chap. I didn't quite know where to look, both of them were certainly old enough to know better, and it's not the sort of example I would expect parents to set their children. I know his wife wasn't impressed, so we made our excuses and set off for home. We bumped in to them at King's Cross on the first day of term, though Hermione's friends weren't around, and restricted ourselves to a polite "Hello".

-o0o-

Her first letter home of the new term filled us in on the reason why we didn't see her friends at the station. They had managed to miss the train (allegedly) so had FLOWN up to the school in a magical car, getting themselves in to a fair amount of trouble on the way. Added to the scenes we had witnessed over the summer, we tried suggesting to Hermione that perhaps these boys weren't necessarily the most suitable of friends. Her reply back was the first "teenage strop" we'd ever had. She was quite capable of deciding who her friends were; they weren't trouble makers and had already been punished thank you very much. Apparently Ron had got a flea in his ear from his mother.

(You know, the little minx never told us about "Howlers" until she'd left school. They would have come in useful on occasions. It's amazing what very intelligent people can forget, isn't it?)

Compared to last year, the autumn term seemed remarkably normal. One thing I must tell you, though she'd kill me if she ever found out, was that she had her first ever schoolgirl crush. It was with that smarmy teacher we'd seen over the summer. All her letters home were "Professor Lockhart said this..", "Professor Lockhart did that..", "I got top marks in Professor Lockhart's test…". It was quite sweet really. Jean confided in me that she'd had her first crush at about the same age, on a maths teacher. I managed to stop her going in to details, thankfully, but she looked quite wistful. Girls, eh?

The only other news of note was that she had been to a "Deathday" party for one of the ghosts. She seemed to have enjoyed herself, though it was very cold, and the food was awful. Once again, I had to shake my head in disbelief. It was such a different world. Eventually, would the gap be too great to cross?

The disappointment of the term was when she wrote home asking if she could stay over for Christmas. It was tucked on to a letter telling us that Harry had broken his arm playing Quidditch. I suppose we weren't surprised. At school she had friends around her, even a girl friend now, as Ron's sister had started at Hogwarts as well. At home, she didn't really know anybody, and Jean and I would be working as normal. It was still sad, though. Our daughter was growing up, and we weren't enough for her any more. I suppose all children go through that phase. Christmas was fairly quiet that year, just the two of us, with the parents around.

I should have suspected she was up to something.

Another pair of owls arrived on Boxing Day. Thankfully, our parents didn't see them. We'd never actually got as far as telling them their grand-daughter was a witch. I'm not sure how they would have handled it. They just thought she was at a normal boarding school.

The first was from the school nurse informing us, in that bland way officialdom has, that our daughter had been admitted after an "incident". She was in no danger, and we would be kept informed of her progress.

Hermione's letter was no better. She'd been working on a potion as an experiment, and it had gone wrong. She was in no danger, and would keep us informed. There was ABSOLUTELY NO NEED to visit.

Jean made me tear up my first reply. Instead I was restricted to "reminding" her that chemicals could be dangerous, and she wasn't yet at a level where she could start experimenting without teacher supervision. What was going to become of her?

-o0o-

The crush of Professor Lockhart was obviously going strong. The 15th February brought a whole letter about Valentine's Day, an event I'm sure she'd never been aware of previously. Professor Lockhart had charmed the dining room to be pink. Professor Lockhart had made confetti fall from the ceiling. Professor Lockhart had employed dwarfs to distribute messages around the school. Ron's little sister Ginny had sent a singing valentine to Harry, and it was soooo funny. Harry was reeeaaally embarrassed and they all laughed. I was forbidden to ask, on pain of death, how many cards Hermione had received.

In fact, Jean rather sniffily pointed out it was probably EXACTLY the same number as she had got i.e NONE. What is it with women? She's been married now for 16 years to the most wonderful man in the world (even if I do say so myself), and she gets all upset that I didn't buy her a card and a bunch of overpriced flowers. My reply that I didn't appear to get any flowers either did little to make the situation better.

Hermione spent Easter at school again, revising for exams and thinking about her 3rd year options. I'd forgotten that one. So much had happened it seemed impossible that almost two years had passed. She appeared to want to take the entire syllabus, which looked to be a physical impossibility. We entered in to a long and complex three-way correspondence with Hermione and her Head of House, the Professor McGonagall who had visited us all that time ago.

McGonagall was satisfied that Hermione had the intellectual capability needed to take thirteen subjects and told us that there was a method available, subject to necessary approvals, which would allow her to do so. Our main concern was not so much our daughter's capability, we knew she was bright, but the sheer physical strain of doing so much work. The last thing we wanted was having her burning out and blowing everything. Back came Hermione's reply saying that she could cope and wasn't frightened of hard work. McGonagall offered to monitor the situation for us. All we could do was give our blessing, and assure Hermione that we would think no less of her if she felt it was all getting too much and she needed to drop some subjects. We felt very proud of her, actually. Our daughter looked to be turning in to a real high-flyer.

-o0o-

It was, of course, too good to last.

That school!! They never told us ANYTHING. Even the most basic low grade comprehensive has a newsletter occasionally, but we got nothing. Something had been going on up there all year, and we didn't have a clue. The only contact we had were Hermione's letters and she was too busy giggling away about Lockhart and picking exam options. How can you expect a 13 year old, even one as clever as ours, to be able to properly evaluate risks? Probably some of the other parents knew what was going on, but they were on the inside, they were magic. We weren't, we were just "Muggles" and, of course, our daughter had been in danger for precisely that reason.

This time, there was no owl, but a knock on the door late one evening. McGonagall was standing there, with another teacher. I didn't know who he was. It was obviously not good news.

'Hermione' It wasn't a question, more a statement.

'May we come in, Mr. Granger?' Her voice betrayed her concern.

In the living room, our ordinary living room in our nice middle class estate, McGonagall informed us that our daughter had been petrified, and she had come to collect us as she thought we should visit. Of course, being Muggles, we took the vernacular approach. OK, Hermione had received a bad fright, was maybe even in shock, but it didn't seem that desperate. McGonagall asked us to take an arm each; we were travelling directly to the school. Jean and I looked at each other. What was going on?

It was another assumption. As Jean took McGonagall's arm they seemed to twist and vanish, leaving me and the other teacher standing there. He grabbed my arm and then ….well, to be honest I thought the house had exploded… and this is what dying felt like. Every side of me was being crushed at once, my head was in a vice and I couldn't breathe. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over and we were standing outside a set of gates.

This was known as "apparition", the way wizards travelled.

Hurrying up to the hospital wing, we found out exactly what "petrified" meant in the magical world. Hermione lay on the bed, looking exactly like a marble statue. Her skin was white, and she wasn't just cold, she was solid. It was obvious to both of us she was dead. We just slumped across her and cried like babies.

The school nurse had to shout to make herself understood. Hermione wasn't dead, this was some kind of curse, and it was reversible. No, it could not happen now. A special potion had to be brewed. No, there was none in stock, it could not be stored. It would take about a month before the situation was recovered.

Nobody knew what was causing this to happen; there had been two earlier attacks. All we wanted was our daughter home as soon as possible. This was the final straw. Twice in two years she had nearly died. The school, to us, seemed badly run and just downright dangerous.

There's not much to say about the next few weeks. Every couple of days we would receive a note saying her condition was "stable". We were not invited to visit again.

At the end of May we received a letter from Hermione. I think we both cried when we saw the writing. She had been restored, and her friends Ron and Harry had tracked down the cause of the problem. Everything was fine now, end of term exams had been cancelled but she wanted to rest for a few days. She would see us soon at the start of the summer holidays.

We made plans to go on holiday for a couple of weeks. France sounded good. There were things we needed to discuss with her. Namely, was she going back to Hogwarts again?


	5. Chapter 5 Cat and Rats

It wasn't the best start to a summer holiday. A stroppy 13 year old (I'm ALMOST 14, Father) slumped in the armchair; arms and legs tightly crossed, glaring at us from under her eyebrows. We tried to reason with her on several occasions, always with the same result.

'Hermione, please listen love, all we're doing is thinking about what's best for..'

'I KNOW what's best for me, THANK YOU. I'm at a school I love, ALL my friends are there, and I've got EXAM courses starting next term. I've got LOADS of homework to do over the summer AND I DON'T NEED YOU STRESSING ME OUT'

She flounced off upstairs – again. Slamming every door on the way – again. "Stressing her out"? Where did that one come from? We were caught between a rock and a hard place. Whether you want to call it accepting the situation, or downright capitulation, we decided to let her make her own mind up. She could go back if she wanted to, but there were conditions attached. She would write twice a week, without fail. She would tell us exactly what was going on. Any hint of danger, she would let us know, and WE would decide on what course of action to take.

After that, she calmed down a little and actually started talking to us. Hermione was always a master at marshalling facts for an argument. The daily papers were full of doom and gloom; the World Trade Centre bombing, murders. She was in no more danger at school than anywhere else.

We started looking forward to the holiday in France at the end of July. Now France, to me, means certain things. Wandering around markets, buying good meats and cheeses, searching out local delicacies, and wine of course. For Hermione, it was the chance for a witch hunt. The area we were going to had a long history of witchcraft which would be a "fascinating topic to study" and a "great opportunity" to work in to her essays. She wanted to make a good start for next year.

The school owls turned up whilst we were away. How did they find us? I was staggered at the number of book she would need. It was a good job the practise was doing well; this lot would cost a mint. There was also a permission slip to sign so that she could leave school to visit the local village. I told her that permission granted could be permission withdrawn - if necessary. I still got a hug, though.

The other key events of the summer came to us through the newspapers. She'd started getting a wizard paper delivered, a subtle hint every day that she was still going back. Once there was a picture of her friend Ron and his family. They had won a prize draw, and had gone on holiday to Egypt with the money. He had a brother working out there. It was quite a nice picture of them, all moving and waving of course. They seemed to be a nice family; maybe we had judged them a little too quickly in the past.

The other event was one I recognised from our own press. A mass murderer had escaped from prison, and was being hunted down. I hadn't realised he was actually a wizard – one of You-know-who's mob that had killed her friend Harry's parents evidently.

This brought our old fears back to the surface.

'Would you have wanted me to change schools if I was at a Muggle one, and he wasn't a wizard?' she asked. That flummoxed us.

Once back home, letters continued to fly (no pun intended) between Hermione and Ron. Harry was in trouble again, something about attacking an aunt and running away from home. She obviously saw the look on our faces.

'It's not his fault. He lives with his Mum's sister and her husband. They're really awful to him and he hates it there, that's why he always stays at school at Christmas and Easter'

Harry was staying in a Hotel in Diagon Alley for the last couple of weeks of the holidays, and Ron and his family were joining him the day before term started. It was suggested that Hermione could go along too. She was obviously keen.

'I can get all my school things, and you won't have to make two trips in to London. Yes, the Weasleys will look after me. Yes, I'll behave. Yes, I'll be sharing a room with Ginny.'

We dropped her off on the 31st, stopping to have a chat with Mr. & Mrs. Weasley who assured us it was no problem at all, they were glad to have her and Hermione would be fine. They were actually very nice people. Hermione was given a bag full of money and a little something extra so she could choose a birthday present for herself. She had talked about getting an owl, which we thought was a very good idea. We rather hoped it would live at home so we could always contact her.

Hermione was as good as her word, and the evening of the second day of term, we got our first letter from her. They'd had a wonderful evening, and a superb meal. Everybody caught the train this year, they had got a lift to King's Cross in chauffeured cars from the Ministry. Mr. Weasley worked there and had called in a few favours.

Security had been tightened around the school because of the escaped prisoner, and guards from a wizard prison were on 24 hour patrol, so we could stop worrying.

She didn't buy an owl, but instead had found a cat that she loved but nobody else did and it had been in the shop for ages. His name was Crookshanks and we would meet him at Christmas.

(I never liked that cat. It always used to give me funny looks, whilst sitting on my furniture and eating my food. And it was ugly. I was glad when it died.)

Term proceeded in a remarkably calm fashion for a couple of months. Hermione was having to work hard to get through all her lessons, but was coping and enjoying it. Apart from divination, which she didn't like, and still not getting on with the potions master, things were fine. She was particularly enjoying DADA (I don't know) as they had a new teacher this year replacing Lockhart, and he was very good, though she hinted there was something not quite right about him at one stage. Every letter finished with a cheeky "..and nobody murdered in their beds yet!!"

Early November brought a long letter regaling us with her visit to the local village with Ron, and what a fantastic time they'd had. We got an exhaustive list of the shops they had visited, and what they had bought. There was a visit to a café for a wizarding drink which was lovely. Harry hadn't been able to go with them as he didn't have a permission slip, so they had brought him back loads of presents, and in the evening they had a scrummy Halloween feast.

Tucked on the end was a little note to say there had been a possible sighting of the prisoner in the area so the school was searched as an extra precaution, but nothing had been found.

Later on in November we were told that Harry had, once again, ended up in the hospital wing after a Quidditch match, having fallen off his broomstick, which had broken. I know it wasn't funny, but the fact that witches actually DID fly on broomsticks always made me laugh. Jean didn't when I suggested we got her mother one for Christmas.

We did notice, though, that as time went on, the letters became shorter and more scribbled. It was obvious Hermione was struggling to keep up with her work, and that her timetable was overloaded. Suggestions she considered reducing the load were met with a vehement denial anything was wrong, but we weren't surprised when she asked if she could stay over at Christmas once again, as she needed access to the library. I suppose that was one of the problems of being a Muggle. We simply didn't have any books at home she could use. We were worried about her being on her own, but apparently Ron was staying as well, and Harry always did. Making the best of a bad job, we booked ourselves a skiing trip. Our parents could cope for one year.

We returned in the New Year to find a rather sad little letter. Things hadn't gone so well, apparently. Harry had received a new broom as a present, but from an anonymous source. Hermione thought that odd, so had reported it to the staff, who had confiscated it. As a result, she had fallen out with Harry – and Ron – and they weren't talking to each other. In addition, she was helping one of the teachers who had a problem involving a creature which had allegedly attacked a pupil. The whole had all been blown out of proportion, she assured us, the boy was hardly scratched, but there was to be an inquiry so she was working on the defence case.

Their little spat seemed to rumble on through January and February; I suppose they were still children, but she was obviously missing her friends. Work wasn't getting any better either, and she sounded tired. Then, at the end of the month, she wrote to tell us that she had had a major row with Ron, and she would NEVER talk to him again because she HATED him. According to him, her cat had eaten his pet rat, which she said was rubbish, it had probably run away. His only "evidence" was a blood stained bed sheet and some cat hairs. I have to say, it sounded pretty conclusive to us, but I knew she would never back down. She's as stubborn as her mother.

That same letter mentioned another sighting of the escapee "near the school", which had been searched again, but nothing found. At least they seemed to be taking safety seriously this year.

As the saying goes; there's some good news, and some bad news. This creature she had been defending had been found guilty of being dangerous, and would be put down. Hermione had already started work on the appeal, but the good news was that Ron and Harry and agreed to help her, so they were all bestest friends again.

Hermione had also dropped Divination (fortune telling, I think) which she had never got on with, feeling it was a very woolly subject, and the teacher an old fraud. It cut down on her work somewhat, but there was still plenty to do, so could she stay over at Easter? Jean and I smiled sadly to each other. Did we have a daughter or a pen pal?

-o0o-

'WE WON! WE WON!! We won the Quidditch cup and Harry caught the Snitch and beat Malfoy to it and he's his biggest rival and nobody likes him anyway which makes it better and we haven't won it for so long that everybody's pleased and we had a party in the Common Room until we were sent to bed. WE WON!!!'

I assumed, from this letter that they had won something. Apart from it being a Quidditch match, the rest was fairly meaningless to us, but a typical Hermione-being-excited response. She always wanted to cram as many words as possible in to a sentence! I liked getting these little insights occasionally. We knew she worked very hard, and it was a warm feeling to imagine her at a party relaxing and enjoying herself with her friends for a few hours instead of doing homework.

Shortly after that, exams started and we were back to detailed analyses of her performance, which generally concluded she hadn't done very well and would probably fail. We weren't over concerned. The appeal for the beast was set for the 6th, the day they finished the exams, so that added to the pressure. Hermione can get very involved in "causes" and I hoped this one would go well, as it would upset her greatly, and we probably wouldn't hear the end of it all summer.

It's so easy to slip in to a false sense of security, isn't it? We remembered the last day of the exams, and started looking forward to a nice peaceful summer, congratulating ourselves that our daughter hadn't nearly died this year.

It wasn't two owls this time, but a whole herd of them

The first was from the school nurse saying that Hermione had been detained overnight to be treated for "emotional shock" following an incident in the school grounds.

The second was from the Headmaster, commending Hermione for "acting in the highest traditions of the school, without regard to her own personal safety (WHAT?) and showing commitment to the cause of justice."

The final one was from Hermione.

'Dear Mum and Dad,

I suppose you've heard from the school by now. Don't worry, I'm fine. I've got loads and loads to tell you when I get home.

Love

Hermione'

It was a very good story as well; of the murderer who wasn't a murderer and the rat that was. The teacher who was a werewolf, and her friend finding his godfather. And it all made sense now.

'That explained why he attacked Ron in his bed that night. He didn't get the beds mixed up; he was never after Harry in the first place, but Ron's rat.'

She must have seen the blood draining from our faces.

'Ron attacked in his bed?'

'I'm sure I mentioned it in one of my letters. Yes, now I think about it, I'm certain… I meant to…Anyway, Ron's dad might be able to get tickets to the Quidditch World Cup final and if he can he's asked if I want to go and Ginny will be going as well so we can share a tent and be company for each other and it will be fantastic because it hasn't been played here for ages and there might not be another chance to go and … and...'

She looked at us with puppy eyes.

'Pleeeeeeeeeease, I'll be good'


	6. Chapter 6 Damsels and Champions

'YES!! YES!! YESS!! YESS!! YEEEE-HA!! WHOOOOOO-HOOOOOO!!'

Hermione was jumping up and down on the sofa waving a letter.

'Good news, by any chance? Flourish and Blotts got a half-price sale? You've found a new home for the cat?'

The cat stalked from the room as Hermione flung her arms around me.

'THEY GOT THE TICKETS!! WE'RE GOING TO THE WORLD CUP'

'Good, I'm very pleased for you, and so are my ear drums.'

-o0o-

Late August found us driving down to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. It's a lovely little place, tucked away in a fold in the Downs, not far from the sea. We'd arranged to meet Ron by the Post Office, as we couldn't drive directly to the house due to the spells around it. He was there on time, and climbed in to the back seat next to Hermione, saying 'Hello Mrs. Granger, hello Mr. Granger' rather awkwardly.

'Hello Ron, nice to meet you again. Sorry, this is a normal car; we'll have to stay on the ground' He blushed, which was rather gratifying.

Their house was the most incredible thing I'd ever seen. It looked like it had grown, rather than been built. It was a very homey sort of place, with chickens scratching around in the front garden. I have to say, we felt slightly nervous going inside, I suppose we didn't know what to expect – something out of "The Munsters' probably. Instead we found a spotlessly clean kitchen, with Mrs. Weasley bustling around wearing a pinny, and Mr. Weasley reading the paper.

We stayed for about an hour, generally chatting and drinking tea – proper tea as well, not some kind of witches brew, and met Ron's sister Ginny. Her conversation mainly involved Harry, who was arriving the next day. Somehow, the name managed to work itself into every sentence, and Jean and I smiled to each other. Having experienced Hermione's crush in her second year, we could recognise the symptoms.

Finally, having made sure Hermione had enough money for school things – Mrs. Weasley had offered to do the Diagon Alley run this year – we set off for home.

We were sent a detailed report about the world cup final, which mentioned everything apart from the match. We were told all about the trip, the camp site, the stadium, the crowd and particularly the cheerleaders. Ireland had leprechauns, which we could imagine, whilst Bulgaria brought Veelas, which we couldn't. Apparently they are beautiful women who can transform in to vicious, savage birds when angered. I got as far as saying 'Why darling, you never told me you were a …' when Jean slapped my arm, quite hard actually. But, of the match nothing apart from 'Oh, Ireland won, by the way'. It didn't surprise me; Hermione was the most unsporting person I'd ever met. I'm sure she only wanted to go to be with her friends. The final sentence was 'There was a bit of a disturbance after the game, but nothing to worry about'.

We were wise to that one now. Telling us not to worry was a guarantee that we should, so we asked for a little more information. We were told it was nothing more than a few hot heads, who had probably been drinking, but Ministry officials were on hand and it was over before it started.

The first letter of terms announced BIG NEWS. Hogwarts was hosting an inter-school tournament, and they would have visitors from schools in France and the Arctic. All the boys were upset, though, because you had to be 17 to enter. Every school would select a Champion, and the prize was 1,000 galleons.

They also had a new DADA teacher (I still didn't know what it stood for), the werewolf from last year having left. This one used to be head "auror" at the Ministry; one leg, most of his face missing and he was known rather subtly as "Mad-eye" because he'd lost an eye as well, and replaced it with a magic one. Hermione also thought he might have a drink problem. He sounded wonderful, a real role model for our daughter. A little later we found out he punished unruly children by transforming them in to animals. I assume the wizard world doesn't have social workers.

Apart from that, the only other event of note was Hermione hitting the campaign trail. She'd always had a strong sense of justice, and had discovered that Hogwarts was staffed by an army of unpaid elves. She had formed a group called "SPEW" – a wonderful acronym, I'm sure – to fight for their rights, and both Ron and Harry had been elected to the organising committee. They were raising funds by selling badges, bearing the campaign name, for two sickles each. We managed to find some coins she had left behind, and sent them up to her, getting our very own badges back by return owl. Jean told me NOT to wear mine in to the surgery.

At the end of the month, the foreign visitors arrived, and the tournament was officially opened. The school had been polished to within an inch of its life, as had the students, but the major shock was that her friend Harry had been selected as school champion, actually one of two from Hogwarts, even though he was underage. I think it was the first time she had ever voiced a concern about anything. Something was not right about his selection, because he hadn't put his name up for it, so who had? The other thing on her mind was that it had caused Ron and Harry to fall out, and Hermione was trying to play peacemaker between then, without much success. She thought the problem was that Ron was jealous.

'Poor Ron, he comes from such a big family his parents just don't have much time to give them any individual attention, and at school his best friend is world famous. He seems to think Harry cheated to get his name in, and didn't let Ron in on the secret. I feel so sorry for him, because he's so loyal most of the time, and quite sweet.'

Hmm. We would have to keep an eye on this friendship, it seemed.

We were party to the secret that Harry had discovered what the first task was, and Hermione was helping him research it. He had to fight a dragon. For goodness sake, they were back at it again.

Even now, it still can't fully understand the wizarding world. For all their powers, they do seem to have a strange approach. As I've said, they don't have electricity, so there are no computers or telephones. Hermione is considered a bit odd in that she can drive a car, Ron's never learned. This business with the dragons was another manifestation. Apparently, there was no problem allowing adolescents to fight them, aside from the welfare issue of using wild animals for sport. Can you imagine what the RSPCA, let alone the NSPCC, would have to say if a school in our world let children fight lions? At around that time, I remember her being hit in the face by a spell somebody had cast, she ended up in the hospital wing again. Where was the protective clothing? There was no regard for Health & Safety issues anywhere.

Anyway, rant over. Harry, and the others fought their dragons, and nobody was killed. All they had to do, in the end, was steal a golden egg being guarded by the dragon, as this held the clue to the next task. Harry confused his animal by flying round and round it on his broomstick, and scored very good marks. He was tied in first place. The best news, however, was that he and Ron had patched up their argument, so they were all friends again.

-o0o-

'Dear Mum and Dad,

I know I said I'd be home for Christmas, but the thing is that a Yule Ball has been organised to celebrate the tournament, and it's being held on Christmas evening. So, can I go please? It will be a chance for me to wear my new dress robes, and everyone else is going.

Love Hermione

A boy has asked me to go with him.'

This letter caused much smirking and giggling around the dining room table. We wrote back saying that, of course, she could go and did we know this boy? Was it anyone we had met, perchance?

Surprisingly, it wasn't Ron, or even Harry, but a boy from one of the other schools she had met in the library. His name was Viktor, and he was very shy. It was only after the event we found out he wasn't some fellow bookworm, but almost three years older and an International Quidditch player. That might have changed our view, which was probably why she "forgot" to mention it.

-o0o-

Two owls turned up on Boxing Day. What had gone wrong now? But the second wasn't from the nurse, or even headmaster. When I opened the window, one flew to me, and the other straight to Jean.

Mine was a fairly straightforward description of the ball; how the hall was decorated, what food she had eaten, and the fact that she had danced "quite a lot" with Viktor, who was very nice, but didn't speak very good English. She had been teaching him how to say her name properly.

Jean's letter was a girly outpouring. It took me a while to persuade her to let me read it.

She had danced every dance with Viktor, and he was really sweet. After the ball was over, they had held hands when they went outside to say goodnight before he went back to his sleeping quarters, and he had kissed her. (I think it was her first kiss, actually.) She wanted advice, and in this situation you obviously turn to your mum. Did this mean he liked her? Was she now "going out" with him? What should she do next? Why was Ron being horrible to her? They'd had a row when she got back to the common room, and he said she was "fraternising with the enemy". Ron had asked her to go to the ball with him as well, but only when he couldn't find anyone else. Why had he waited so long to ask her? Did that mean Ron liked her as well?

It was all rather sweet. Jean just told her to follow her instincts.

-o0o-

Harry had found out what the next task was, and to complete it, the competitors had to find something precious to them that had been hidden in the lake. They'd have an hour. All they needed to do was to be able to hold their breath that long.

Hermione and Ron were trying to help Harry come up with a solution. They had already decided an aqualung, which seemed an obvious solution to me, was out of the question. What had got her really worried was the library wasn't being much help. She had searched book after book but drew a blank. This was, of course, unheard of. The whole point of books and Hermione being on the same planet was that you put the two together and came up with a result. The only possible answer, she thought, was for Harry to turn himself in to something that could breathe underwater, but that hadn't done those lessons yet. Maybe that's why the entry age was 17. It looked like he was going to fail spectacularly on the day.

'Dear Mum and Dad

'HE DID IT! HARRY FOUND OUT HOW TO DO THE TASK!!

Ron and I couldn't help in the end because we were two of the people hidden in the lake. Harry had to find Ron but the French girl couldn't get her sister because of the Grindylows so Harry had to rescue her as well which meant he got back after the time limit, but Dumbledore spoke to the Mermaid queen who told him what happened so he got really good marks, and is still tied for first place. He used gillyweed in the end. It was so obvious I could kick myself.

Love Hermione

Viktor rescued me.'

Perhaps she could provide us with a translation in future, or just write in English.

-o0o-

'Dear Mum and Dad,

I wanted you to hear it from me, and not through somebody else. It's all a big lie, I swear to you it is. Parkinson is a real bitch, and she's always hated me and Rita Skeeter just wants to get back at me because I told her what an evil lying cow she is. I've never been Harry's girlfriend and I'd never cheat on him even if I was which I'm not. I know love potions are banned so I'd never ever make one and I wouldn't use one anyway because I want somebody to love me for myself.

Please believe me, it isn't true.

Love Hermione.'

She had enclosed an article from a wizard magazine that did indeed say that my daughter was playing fast and loose. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. It was a typical piece of gutter journalism, but I could understand how it would upset her. What a spiteful bitch to pick on a school girl.

We also had a letter from Dumbledore, saying that he had been on the end of this journalist's "enchantingly nasty" pieces on many occasions. He had no intention investigating any of the ridiculous allegations made, Miss Granger was a model pupil and was treating the whole thing with the contempt it so richly deserved.

We told her not to worry, and whilst she was being talked about, they were leaving some other poor soul alone. We asked her how Viktor felt about the things that had been made up about him. Apparently, as it happens, that bit was actually sort of correct. He had asked her to visit him, and he did say he was very fond of her, but she hadn't made up her mind yet. We responded that it wasn't just her decision, we would have a say in the matter, and we felt that it wasn't entirely suitable for a 15 year old girl to visit her 18 year old boyfriend, in a foreign country, on her own. That got us a mouthful back.

There was also was another letter from the school nurse. Apparently, some people had believed it, and she had received hate mail, one of which caused a slight injury. How sad can you get?

-o0o-

The third task was approaching, and Hermione was so worried she dropped her guard on several occasions. She told us that Viktor had been attacked actually in the school grounds, but not badly hurt thank goodness. At the same time one of the Ministry judges had disappeared, and it was all confusing. She was so worried about Harry that she was even missing revision to help him prepare for the final test, which involved a maze. Being wizards, I assumed it was nothing as simple as simply finding your way through. They'd probably release some more dragons in there. It turned out I wasn't far wrong.

'Dear Mum and Dad,

The tournament had a bad ending. The other Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory, died during the task. Harry tried to save him but couldn't. The most awful thing was that Cedric's parents and girlfriend were watching. She has been crying ever since. We are all feeling very flat.

I'll be home soon and I'm missing you and love you

Hermione'


	7. Chapter 7 Enemies and Exams

Hermione was very quiet at the start of the holidays. She had also become a little clingy, even coming in to the surgery with us. She had never really known anyone die before, a few old distance relatives she hardly knew, but not somebody familiar. I suppose actually being there and seeing him made it even worse.

One evening, a couple of weeks later, she came in to the living room, and squeezed between us on the sofa. We assumed she was ready to talk; we'd left it up to her to decide when, rather than pushing. We sat with our arms around her, whilst she played with the hem of her T-shirt in a distracted fashion.

'Professor Dumbledore's coming to see you' she said, in a very small, flat voice without looking at us.

'Why?'

'I've failed all my exams; they're going to make me leave Hogwarts.' She burst in to tears

We sat there stunned. Hermione had never failed an exam in her life. Only last year she had managed to get 320 in one test. There was no way she could fail an entire year, and surely, even if she had, they must have some kind of remedial action. It was impossible that…hang on, IT WAS impossible.

'Have you actually had a letter saying you've failed, and that's why he's coming?'

'N..no, b..but why else would he come here? I must have failed. I was too busy h..he..helping Harry.'

'We're certain it can't be that, not our little genius. It probably that they're checking on how everyone is, after…what happened. You're getting the Headmaster because it's your OWLS year.'

-o0o-

He turned up the next evening. We were glad he'd arrived. Hermione had been like a cat on hot bricks all day and was, quite frankly, getting on our nerves. He was the most extraordinary person I had ever seen. That was exactly how a wizard should look. Before I showed him to the living room I checked about the exam results. He chuckled.

'Gracious me, is that what Miss. Granger thought? What a strange idea to get in to her head. I have come to speak to you on an entirely different matter.'

As we went in, Hermione actually squeaked, she was so up tight.

'Before we begin' he said 'I must congratulate you on your end of term results, Miss Granger. Top of the year once again.' She almost fainted.

He then turned to us. 'I have no doubt that your daughter has told you the history of her very good friend, Mr Potter?' Of course she had, so we nodded. 'And of his survival against all odds after the dark wizard known as Voldemort killed his parents?'

'Voldemort? That's the man with no name? Hermione told us that Harry had a run in with him during their first year, but had beaten him.'

'A "run in"?' He looked at Hermione, who blushed for some reason. 'An interesting description, if I may say so. Voldermort was very weak at that point. However, he has grown stronger since, as was shown by his brutal murder of Mr. Diggory so recently.'

Our eyes immediately swung to Hermione. Something very interesting was obviously happening to her fingernails.

'We'll talk about this later, Hermione. At great length.'

'Yes, mum'

'Please carry on, headmaster. I think we may have been hearing a … slightly sanitised version of events.'

I could swear he was trying to suppress a smile. 'I am sure Miss Granger was only trying to protect you, and that no deceit was intended.' She looked at him gratefully. 'To continue, then. Voldemort has returned to full power, and I believe he wishes to complete the task he was attempting when he killed Mr. Potter's parents, and tried to kill Mr. Potter himself all those years ago.'

'Task?'

'To take over the wizarding world.'

Dumbledore told us about a group called "The Order of the Phoenix" a group of wizards who had gathered the last time to fight Voldemort. He had resurrected it, drawing together the surviving members, and attempting to recruit anew.

'Hang on! You can't surely be suggesting you want our daughter to join and fight? She's 15.'

'Certainly not, Mr. Granger. However, I would like Miss Granger to join us at the Headquarters for the rest of the summer. I sincerely hope that Mr. Potter will join us there eventually, and it would be of great assistance if he could have his friends there with him.'

'But Hermione, would she be in danger?'

'I do not think there is any immediate danger, Mr. Granger. If there were, on balance I believe she would be safer with us.'

We talked about alternatives and options for her safety, should this Voldemort start an all out war. He suggested only one; that eventually we would have to leave Britain. For a wizard, he was remarkably well informed about our world.

'It would be possible. You are both dentists, a skill which is transferable anywhere in the world.' He suggested getting as far away as possible, perhaps Australia.

'What about the Ministry? Why are they not dealing with Voldemort?'

'Ah, I am afraid the Minister of Magic is taking a somewhat obdurate approach. He is insisting that there is no problem, that Voldemort has not returned.'

'But you're convinced he has?'

'Mr. Granger, I know he has.'

-o0o-

Jean and I lay awake for most of the night, trying to discuss what to for the best. The situation was obviously far worse than we had been led to believe, but what was the best thing to do? Everything we had, including Hermione's education, was here. Then there was the consideration, would she go?

We got the answer to that one in the morning, when Hermione told us that she'd thought things through, and wouldn't run out on her friends. Harry had looked after her she wanted to stay for him. Anyway, the situation wasn't perhaps as bleak as Dumbledore had painted it. She thought that Voldemort would be defeated, once the Ministry came round, which they had to do. With a promise THIS TIME to tell us what was actually happening, and not try to "protect" us from the real world, we agreed she could stay. Hermione sent the coded message agreed with Dumbledore.

A witch turned up a couple of days later, as arranged. She hardly looked old enough to be out of school herself, and the bright pink hair did little to instil confidence. Nor did the fact she tried to sit on the arm of a chair and missed, ending up sprawled on the carpet. Apparently, she was an "auror" as well, which we now discovered was a type of wizard policeman. God help us.

We had the novelty of actually getting letters through the post for a while, as it was considered a potential weakness to send owls from "HQ". I got the feeling Hermione quite enjoyed the "cloak and dagger" stuff, and used it as an excuse to not really tell us much. The Weasleys were all there, and she was sharing a room with Ginny again. They had become firm friends; I think Hermione had taken her on board as a built-in little sister.

I suppose it was her way of making up for being an only child, she built her own family around her. I had sometimes thought that, the way she spoke about Harry, he was actually more of a pet brother than a friend. She and Ron were always arguing and fighting, but Harry got told what to do.

Actually, her letters were mainly about the "chats" she and Ginny were having. Ginny, we knew, had had this huge crush on Harry, and Hermione was trying to help her through it. I suppose now having been kissed by Viktor, she felt herself to be very worldly wise and mature.

'Dear Mum and Dad,

H turned up the other day. He's not in a very good mood because he's been stuck with his relatives all summer, and we haven't been able to tell him what's been going on, because PD (we assumed that was Dumbledore, she was maybe taking it a bit too far) wouldn't let us.

You wanted me to tell you everything, so here goes. H was attacked in the street by some prison guards, it's hard to explain that any more unless you know them, but he managed to fight them off, but he had to use magic to do it, so now he's in trouble with the Ministry. He'll get off, of course, because you can in an emergency, but it's like they've got some kind of vendetta running against him because of you know who.

Anyway, to finish on some good news: I'VE BEEN MADE A PREFECT AND SO HAS RON!!!!!

That means we get to use our own private bathroom. Ginny says to tell you not at the same time though!!

Love you lots

Hermione'

After the start of term, letters returned to their usual method. I've just realised what I said. Owls were usual, not this weird "postman" stuff. The big advantage of this was that we could write back to her again. The address of "HQ" was a secret we were not in on.

-o0o-

The first letter was the usual stuff about the start of term, what her prefect duties consisted off, and the – yet again – new DADA teacher. (I should have asked Dumbledore what it stood for.) She wasn't too happy with this one – not a werewolf or an alcoholic obviously – and had constructed a whole conspiracy theory that she was a Ministry spy come to keep an eye on them all.

Having said that, the letters through that term did become more and more non-descript. Mainly reports of lessons and her continuing SPEW activities. It wasn't until the first Hogsmeade weekend we got a hastily scribbled note to say that she thought letters from school were being intercepted, so she had to be careful.

We decided to have another skiing holiday as this would be our last chance to get away together for the school year, we'd already assumed she wouldn't be home for Easter, so decided to wait for then to have a proper talk to her and see what was actually going on. It did all seem a bit far fetched. However, she pleaded homework pressure and asked if she could stay on, these exams were very important to her, and she wanted to do the best she could. We were still allowed to go, though. So we did, even though it was sad to think of her at school, working all the way through the holidays.

The New Year didn't bring much of an improvement. Politely dull letters, as if written to a great aunt she hadn't seen for years. The odd snippet snuck through though. Harry had been banned from playing Quidditch; lessons were stepping up ready for the exams; Harry had a girlfriend; a teacher had been sacked; Harry had split up with his girlfriend; Ron's brothers Fred and George had been banned from Quidditch; Harry's ex-girlfriend kept crying.

It did seem strange, ignoring her friend's love lives, but what was the headmaster doing? He seemed to have ramped up discipline to an extraordinarily rigid level, just a few months before exams started. We kept asking her to come home for Easter, but the answer was always the same; revision, revision, revision.

Then, just before Easter, she wrote to tell us that Dumbledore had been sacked, and replaced by her DADA teacher. Apparently 'a whole box of fireworks was set off in the school on her first day. We haven't been able to find out if it was a celebration or protest because, obviously, nobody knows who did it.' She'd made the "O" of Hermione into a little smiley face.

It seemed that, despite the change of Headmaster, discipline continued to go down hill fast. Ron's twin brothers had left school (or been expelled perhaps) after turning a corridor in to a swamp. A creature I'd never heard of had been released in the new Headmistress's office and wrecked it. Stink bombs were going off all over the place.

Despite all this, Hermione was not going to be distracted from her exams, which were fast approaching. Letters were now a resume of her revision plan, but that was nothing to the exams themselves. Not surprisingly, Ron and Harry had decided that once an exam was over, they wanted to forget it. Hermione, however, wanted to talk about them, and we were a captive audience. Had we read those letters at any length, we probably could have taken the damned exams ourselves. I know it's very cruel to say it, and we did want her to do well obviously, but a 12 inch parchment minutely detailing the possible consequences of a mistranslation in Ancient Runes was not my idea of bedtime reading. Still exams we soon be over and then we – I mean she, could relax. The last one was History of Magic, and we waited for her letter to arrive. It didn't.

Instead, we had one from the school nurse. 'Admitted after incident…no immediate…will keep you…' We were getting quite use to them by now. Hermione's followed the next day.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Nothing to worry about just banged my ribs. I'll tell you all about it when I get home.

See you soon

Hermione'

We rolled our eyes. It was probably just a bit of letting off steam after the exams, and these things happened. We hoped she would be able to enjoy those last few halcyon days of term, relaxing with her friends, the odd game of croquet, perhaps. You would have thought we'd have learned by now.

-o0o-

On arriving at King's Cross, we saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with a group of people, including that policewoman with the pink hair. Mr. Weasley – 'Please, call me Arthur!' – invited us over, and we chatted whilst waiting for the train. Hermione, Ron and Harry came through together and we rushed towards her.

'No big hugs, my ribs are still a bit sore!! I'll tell you when we get home.'

We saw Arthur and the others accompany Harry over to a group whom we assumed were his family. They appeared to be very uncomfortable. His – uncle, was it? – was a very overweight, purple man. High blood pressure, I thought to myself. I wouldn't want to give him a general anaesthetic, probably have a heart attack in the surgery. His wife was definitely "horsey faced", huge teeth, I could make a fortune out of her. They appeared to be arguing with Arthur and his friends. Still, that was none of our business; we wanted to get Hermione home.

Sitting with a cup of tea, Hermione told us the story of the year. It was far more dramatic than we had ever imagined from her letters. How this Headmistress WAS part of the Ministry plan to get control of the school, how Harry had suffered for insisting You Know Who was back, the formation of "Dumbledore's Army" to learn the spell they were no longer allowed to be taught, Dumbledore's flight when they tried to arrest him and, of course, the exams. Lots and lots about the exams. I was mentally counting down the seconds until the results arrived. They couldn't come quick enough.

Hermione finished her tea, and stood up. 'I'll think I'll unpack now, and get it over with.' She crossed to the door, opened it and then turned to us with a strange look on her face. 'If you're good, and eat up all your greens, I'll tell you how I and the others in Dumbledore's Army broke in to the Ministry of Magic and fought You Know Who and his supporters.' Then she was gone. I swear I heard her giggling.

Jean and I stared open mouthed at each other.

'HERMIONE JANE GRANGER. GET BACK HERE - NOW!!'


	8. Chapter 8 Love and Hate

It appeared that the Wizard Government was no different to our one. Having spent months denying anything was wrong; they then told us in great detail how to protect ourselves from all the things they had just said never existed. We received various bits of information, both directly and through the press. Of course, most of it made no sense to Jean and me at all. Imperius Curses? Dark marks? Inferi?

We, yet again, discussed the wisdom of Hermione returning to school, which she insisted on doing, so were partially relieved to see an article in her paper saying that security around the school had been tightened. At least she should be relatively safe there this year. We also agreed that she could stay with the Weasleys for the summer, it would be better there than at home on her own.

I have to say that we never considered we could be in any direct danger as her parents. This was an internecine struggle between wizards, so didn't really concern us. Anyway, we had enough to be going on with as muggles.

It had been a dreadful summer, continually cold and bleak. The cricket season was literally a washout, and there had even been a hurricane. Then there was that tragedy with the bridge collapsing, lots of people had died. The government was having internal problems – one Minister looked to have had a nervous breakdown, and there was the unending problem of law and order. Several prominent murders had the tabloids banging on about bringing back hanging and National Service, as they always did.

We drove Hermione down to Ottery St. Catchpole again, Ron meeting us as before. He'd grown. As we pulled away from the Post Office, I caught sight of the two of them in the year view mirror. They were having problems meeting each others eye. I suppose they were growing up, and she could do a lot worse. It made me feel quite old.

As we were in no particular rush to get back, we readily agreed to Arthur and Molly's invitation to stay to dinner. She's a wonderful cook. We sat around chatting, and naturally the topic turned to You Know Who. I kept calling him Voldemort, which is what Dumbledore had said when he visited us last year, but quickly got the impression I had committed an indiscretion. Arthur explained that most wizards didn't use his name, it was a sort of taboo thing, that's why he was generally known as "He who must not be named". Each to their own, I suppose.

Anyway, they felt that school was a safe as anywhere, probably safer, and had no hesitation in allowing Ron and Ginny to go back, which did more than anything to put us at ease. We said our goodbyes later in the evening, reminding Hermione about writing proper letters, and making sure she had enough funds.

She gave us little air kisses rather than her usual hug. Ah, Ron was watching, she had to be adult.

We drove off quietly reconciled to the idea we wouldn't see her until the following summer, per usual. It was always the low point of the year.

-o0o-

Hermione spent her summer lazing around at the Weasleys with Ron and Ginny. They were the only children at home now, as the next two – the twins who left Hogwarts half way through last year – had opened up a joke shop in Diagon Alley, which seemed to be doing very well. I was glad she was getting a decent break after her OWLS, she would need it for NEWTS which would be even tougher.

The only fly in the ointment was their other house guest. It was Ron's eldest brother's fiancée, Fleur. She was the French girl who had taken part in the tournament at Hogwarts a couple of years back, and was now working at the Goblin Bank.

'Honestly, she's just so full of herself. Just because she's got the most wonderful hair AND beautiful face AND perfect figure, of course. Ron obviously, being male, follows her around drooling like an idiot. It's pathetic. Ginny can't stand her either.'

You know, I could have sworn Hermione was a brown eyed girl – not a green eyed monster.

'Dear Mum and Dad,

The OWL results are out. I've sent them to you for safe keeping. I suppose I didn't do too badly.

Harry arrived yesterday. He's having trouble with his saliva glands as well. Boys!

Love

Hermione.'

Didn't do too badly? We looked at the list, and burst out laughing. Typical Hermione. Probably the most outstanding results in history, and she was disappointed because she'd missed perfection by a gnat's eyebrow. 10 "Outstanding" and 1 "Exceeds Expectation". Sorry, I had to slip in another little gloat.

Best of all, I now knew what DADA stood for. I'd nurtured this little fantasy for years that it was "Dance and Dramatic Arts".

-o0o-

School had started again. They had had a couple of wizard police escorting them, because of Harry. I hoped it wasn't the one with the pink hair. Hermione was taking 7 NEWTS, as planned. There had been another swap around with the staff.

The potions master she had never liked was now teaching DADA. 'And.. turn, kick, 2, 3, hex, 2, 3, 4, jinx, twirl…and rest. Once more from the top, darlings, and give me emotion.' Sorry, my imagination running away with me again.

I suppose I should mention that Hermione "came of age" that September, it happens at 17 in the wizard world. She told us the traditional present is a watch, so we bought her a rather good one, which she was very pleased with. Next year would be her 18th, the traditional birthday for us, and we were rather hoping the school would give permission for a party, maybe in Hogsmeade.

Potions was now being taught by a former teacher who had come out of retirement, a Professor Slughorn. Something funny was going on there. She started out gushing that Harry had told "Old Sluggy" that she was "the best in the year", but then Harry kept getting better marks than her. This was explained by a cryptic 'Of course, anybody can win by cheating'. How can you cheat in a potions lesson? Maybe he was buying the stuff in. Mind you, I could imagine it putting her nose put out of joint, and it being Harry would make things even worse. She was probably giving him a very hard time over it. Apparently, Ron wasn't pleased either.

Ron appeared quite frequently in her letters these days. He got almost a whole one to himself after try-outs for the Quidditch team, where he became goal keeper 'with a little help from his friends … one of them anyway. I hope he never finds out, or maybe I do.' What was that about? Virtually the whole House had wanted to be on the team, she thought because of Harry, who was now Captain. As he had been proved right about You Know Who, everybody wanted to be his friend. I hoped the celebrity wouldn't go to his head.

Despite Harry's "cheating" in potions, Hermione still appeared to be one of "Sluggy's" golden children. He gave little supper parties for her and his other favourites, and was planning a Christmas party to which she had been invited. The rumours were that it would be full of the famous people he knew. She had invited Ron to go with her 'but only as a friend, of course.' Who did she think she was kidding? Was Ron our first potential son-in-law? We giggled quite a lot at that one. Jean wondered if it was too early to start looking for her outfit for "the big day".

The first Quidditch match of the season was approaching, and Hermione was getting anxious. The team had had to draft in an emergency replacement for a player who had been injured. It was a change they didn't need at the moment. She hoped Ron would be alright, she wanted Ron to play really well, Ron was quite nervous. I think there may be other players in a Quidditch team, but I'm not sure.

Gryffindor won the match, we were informed later, but Hermione seemed a little down and wouldn't tell us why. It was back to 'nothing to worry yourselves about' despite our reminders to tell us the real truth. Letters became lesson resumes again, and the more and more desperate attempts by girls to get Harry to invite them to this party. Apparently he had quite a little fan-club going. Some had even attempted to slip him love potions. We could imagine the eyes rolling as she wrote that one.

-o0o-

We were honoured, our darling daughter was coming home for Christmas!! We assumed it was because she was finding NEWTS a struggle compared to OWLS and needed a break, it certainly sounded like it.

'I'll be glad to see the back of this place for a few weeks;' she wrote 'I'm sick of it.'

She certainly didn't look too good when we collected her at King's Cross, falling asleep almost as soon as she got in the car and snoring gently all the way home.

We were convinced she was sickening for something as she sat in the living room, hands clasped around a cup of tea and staring listlessly in to it. She looked pale and drawn with dark patches under her eyes, and even her hair was lank and lifeless. Attempts at starting a conversation were met with either a non-committal shrug, or a grunt. Desperately trying to get on to a happy topic, I asked, in a bright and cheery voice 'So, how did the Christmas party go with Ronald?' First big mistake.

She didn't go to the party with Ron. She would never speak to Ron again. She wouldn't be seen dead with Ron. The only reason she didn't want Ron found decomposing in a ditch was that it wouldn't be very nice for the ditch.

Oh dear', I said, trying to sound deeply concerned, 'what's he done now?' Second big mistake.

Ron, it turned out, was a lying, two-faced, cheating scumbag with the morals of a rat, and the integrity of a sewer and she was well rid of him. Ron had taken up with her dorm mate Lavender and had spent most of the term with his tongue shoved down her throat, and she was welcome to him. Actually, they made an ideal couple because she was nothing more than a painted harlot, who was no better than she should be. In fact, she was a...

I sat there open mouthed. I was stunned to discover that a) there were that many words available to describe a girl of dubious moral character and b) my daughter knew every single one. Wherever had she picked them up? I was glad my mother wasn't around to hear it.

When Hermione had finished ripping poor Lavender's character and reputation in to tiny little pieces, she burst in to tears and ran from the room. Oh joy! The door slamming hormone monster was back. Jean looked daggers at me, and said I had the 'Emotional sensitivity of a falling house brick'. With that, she swept from the room too, pausing only to collect a bottle of wine and two glasses.

'Merry Christmas, one and all' I said to the cat, who stalked off with his nose in the air. I hated that cat.

Jean and Hermione spent a lot of time ensconced together that holiday. I heard them taking it turns to complain about men, in both general and specific terms. I know they made several (fairly expensive) shopping expeditions, I suspect a fair amount of chocolate was eaten and the wine rack definitely looked a bit forlorn by the end of it. On a few evenings, I was actually banished from the living room so they could watch girly films and cry a lot.

I wasn't invited to see her off at King's Cross. She and mum had to do a bit more shopping before she left, and I wouldn't enjoy it, I was told. Jean loved every minute of it.

'It's the first time I've felt like a proper mum in years.' she said, 'It was good to feel she could still pour her heart out to me.'

'So, those things you said about me weren't serious then? You were just encouraging her to work through her emotions?'

She gave me a strange look. 'If you want to think that - darling' was all I got in return.

January brought news that Hermione was old enough to have apparition lessons. Apparition is how wizards travel around when the broomstick is in for a service, and is what we had experienced when she was petrified in second year. Could we "lend" her 12 galleons for the exam? Harry and lists of the others were taking it as well. I think Ron must have emigrated, he wasn't mentioned.

-o0o-

In March, we got a terrible shock, starting with an owl hammering at the window about 5 o'clock one morning. What had gone wrong that was so important? It was a letter from Hermione to Jean, heavily blotched by tears.

'Mum,

Ron's been poisoned. Harry was quick enough to get a bezoar in to him, otherwise he would have died. He's in the hospital now but seriously ill. They said he'll be OK, but they've got his parents up here. Why did they do that if he's not in any danger?

I feel so guilty because I've been so horrible and cruel to him all this year. What if he dies before I get the chance to say how sorry I am and I don't hate him because I don't. I love him mum and I've never told him and it might be too late now. Maybe this is my punishment for being so cruel.

I don't care if he never speaks to me again as long as he knows and he can marry Lavender if he wants and I'd even go away so he never has to see me again. I just want him to get better and be happy.

Help me, please. What do I do?

Hermione'

It had obviously been one of those letters written in the early hours of the morning when you can't sleep and every little thing gets magnified by the loneliness. How the demons come out at night. That was the real problem of her being so far away. If she was at home we could have hugged her and given her hot milk and things wouldn't have seemed quite so bleak.

Jean wrote back with what comfort she could, telling how good the school nurse was, and how she'd been saved from being petrified and reminded her we were taken to the school to see her, and was sure everything would turn out fine. She even decided to put in a few words about Ron not hating her as they had been friends for years, and friendships can survive many things. Perhaps he would never love her in the way she loved him, but he would always be her friend and so on. It's the sort of letter only a woman can write. I'd be hopeless at it. I'm so glad I'm not 17 any more.

-o0o-

Ron didn't die, as it turned out, and Hermione was going up to the hospital wing to visit him on a daily basis. He had to stay in for a couple of weeks. We just hoped that she would be sensible and take it slowly and not blurt out something she would regret later.

It wasn't long before Harry joined Ron in the hospital. He managed to injure himself again playing Quidditch. That boy was a walking accident. "Cracked his skull" was the verdict, but he managed to come out the next day, at the same time as Ron.

Hermione wrote to us specially to say they were both back on their feet, and she had accompanied them back to their House. The main point of the letter was actually to get in a dig that "Lav-Lav" had been angry with Ron because Hermione knew he was coming out, and she didn't. 'I can't think why that should upset her, can you?'

Oh dear, do I hear the sound of cats sharpening their claws.

Ron and "her" seemed to be having problems with their relationship we were informed, with some glee, over the next few weeks. Ron had actually told Hermione and Harry that he wanted to finish it but Lav-Lav wasn't letting go that easily. Hermione was now definitely trying to move things in the right direction – for her. 'I've started helping him with his homework again. I think he's finally realised he needs a woman with just a little more than painted nails and an ability to breathe through her nose whilst snogging.' Ouch. I think time was being bided.

Of course, there was other minor news as well. The Apparition test was going to be at the end of April, and they were all practicing hard for it by taking extra lessons. Hermione seemed to be getting on quite well, and thought she had a chance of passing. Ron was struggling a little bit. Harry couldn't take his test until he was 17 which would be in July.

-o0o-

'Dear Mum and Dad,

I can't ever remember being so excited!!!!!!!!!!!! Happy days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I passed my apparition test yesterday, at the first attempt!!! Ron failed because he left a bit of his eyebrow behind, but I'm sure he'll pass next time. I can't apparate around the school though because it's not allowed.

Oh, and before I forget, Ron and her had a MAJOR falling out last night. I was sort of involved, but I wasn't trying to stir things up, she just jumped to conclusions. She sort of caught us coming out his bedroom. (I know that looks quite bad but it was perfectly innocent honestly, it's a long story and Harry was in there with us but she didn't see him. OK, that doesn't actually make it sound any better. Just trust me!!) Anyway, she really went in to one on him AND THEN SHE DUMPED HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was a bit tense in the dorm when she eventually came up. I pretended I was asleep. She's crying a lot though. I'm trying not to rub it in too much; I don't think that would be very fair on her. Especially as I won (hee hee).

Ginny split up with her boyfriend as well, so I think she'll make a move on Harry pretty soon. I've told her she should. I love it when a plan comes together, don't you?

Lots and lots of love

Hermione.'

She's such a sweet, innocent girl. Jean could start looking for her outfit again, by the sound of things.

-o0o-

Dear Mum and Dad,

This might have just been one of the best days of my life ever!!!

Gryffindor has won the Quidditch cup again!! We stuffed Ravenclaw in the final match. Ron was brilliant and we had a huge celebration afterwards. Best of all, Harry and Ginny finally got it together after the game. You should have seen them; they were actually snogging right in the middle of the Common Room!! I'm so pleased for them because Harry could do with some happiness in his life with all he's going through and Ginny's really sweet and fancied him for absolutely ages.

Lots of love from your little matchmaker,

Hermione.'

-o0o-

'Mum and Dad,

Something terrible has happened; I can't tell you it in a letter. I need to stay here for a couple of days then I'm coming straight home, you won't need to collect me.'

I need to talk to you both.

Hermione.'


	9. Chapter 9 War and Peace

'Something terrible has happened; I can't tell you it in a letter. I need to talk to you both.'

The problem with not having any information is that you start providing your own. What on earth could cause Hermione to write a letter like that? I immediately jumped to the obvious conclusion. Jean and I didn't discuss it; in fact we hardly spoke at all. It was as if we were scared that giving voice to our fears would make them real.

We just had to wait for her to come home.

She turned up one evening, a few days later. There was a knock on the door and there she stood. She hadn't used the train, but had apparated straight back to the house. She fell in to our arms, needing support as much as comfort, as she looked all in.

We got her to the living room and she slumped in to a chair. She sat there, looking far worse than she had at Christmas, hugging herself with her arms and staring at the carpet as she rocked backwards and forwards. She kept saying, over and over again, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry..'

That was the confirmation I was looking for. She was 17, her boyfriend was back and she'd got herself pregnant, a year before her NEWTS. Was I more hurt than angry? No, I bloody well wasn't.

'Come on then, spit it out. Let's get this in to the open.'

Jean put her hand on my arm. 'Give her time; she shouldn't be getting upset in her condition.' She was obviously thinking the same as me. I tried to stay as calm as possible, given the situation. 'Tell us worst.'

So she did, and I wish I'd been right. The school had been attacked – Dumbledore killed – her friends injured.

Then she carried on, and for the first time she told us the whole story. How Harry had survived a killing curse. How there was a prophecy that he and You Know Who would have to fight each other and only one could live. That, before he died, Dumbledore had given Harry a task to find and destroy some objects that would weaken Voldemort so that he could be killed.

That she and Ron were going with him.

'Don't be ridiculous. What do you mean "go with him"? This isn't some kind of game. What chance to you think you stand? You're just children.' We were just shouting out random things, trying to get through to her.

'We know it isn't a game.' She was frighteningly calm as she spoke. It felt like she was the adult, and we the children. 'I've told you, Harry is the only one that can do this, but we can't walk out on him. Sometimes you have to take a risk. This is something worthwhile, not just for me, but for all of us, you included. I know I might die, I don't want to, but it could happen, I know that. But I'll die having lived and fought.'

It was Jean who spoke first. 'Hermione, my love, we know you're of age, that it's your choice and your life. But you're all we have, can't you see that?'

For the first time, she looked at us. Her hair was tangled and wild; her eyes red and swollen, her face blotched. Tears were streaming down her face.

'Mum, Dad, I'm so, so sorry for all of this. I never wanted to cause you this pain. I love you.'

Then she pointed her wand at us.

-o0o-

I can't tell you much about the next 15 months. It's possible you actually know more than me anyway. Hermione and Ron don't talk about what happened, and we don't know Harry well enough to ask. We wouldn't anyway; Ron told us that Harry still has nightmares. We know, of course, about the stories that have passed in to legend about "The Golden Trio".

They spent most of the time living in a tent, trying to avoid capture. We've never asked about their domestic arrangements, it's none of our business. I get the feeling Ron left at some stage. It was something Hermione threw at him once when they were having a row, which happens quite regularly. The fact that we or his parents might be there never stops them, we just pretend to read. On this particular occasion he was losing, as usual, and made for the door. 'That's it, run off when the going gets tough, just like you did in the tent. I know you'll come crawling back like you did then.' He has my sympathy.

We know they broke into the bank because there was something they had to steal, and escaped on a dragon. They still treat Hermione with icy politeness, evidently, and seem quite relieved when she leaves. Somebody once told me, at some award ceremony we were invited to, that the Ministry had to smooth a lot of ruffled feathers amongst the Goblin population.

We know they blew up the Lovegood house. I've met the daughter, Luna, who seems very relaxed about the whole thing, considering her dad was inside at the time. Mind you, she seemed fairly relaxed about everything. A strange girl.

And we know, of course, that they fought in that final battle and that Harry somehow managed to be killed but refused to die. She says she remembers very little. The lulls in the fighting were worse than the battle itself, according to Hermione. That was when the fear kicked in. Whilst they were fighting it was just a lot of noise and confusion and you didn't have time to think.

A lot of people died. Her search for us was delayed because 'there were a lot of funerals to attend, and we wanted to go to every one'. Ron's brother was one, and so was that pink haired policewoman. She was killed alongside her husband, who was the werewolf who had once taught Hermione. They left behind a small son, whom Harry helped raise, he's his Godfather. He's a lovely little chap and calls her "Aunty Herm-own-ninny", which I think Ron put him up to. I can see what she meant about wanting to fight for something worthwhile, like Teddy.

There are some things I've never worked out, and nobody will tell me. Where did that scar come from on her neck? It looks to me like somebody tried to slash her throat at some stage, but she just says 'It was one of those things, don't worry', so I know I should.

-o0o-

What about us? Well, we were safely away from everything. Hermione had put us under some kind of spell, like we were hypnotised. We found a dentist to take over the practice, telling him we wanted to take a sabbatical and go travelling around the USA and Canada; he was in charge and a signatory on the bank account. We remortgaged the house up to the hilt then, as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, we went to Australia. I still don't know how she managed to change all our documents. The American bit was a red herring she made us throw in as extra protection.

Once we got out there, we seem to have travelled around, never staying more than a day or two in one place. I worked that out from a pile of receipts I found. We were living off the cash from the house, God knows what would have happened if … anything had happened. We couldn't have been too conspicuous, and must have been acting fairly normally, because I don't think we ever got arrested.

The funny thing is, I'd always wanted to go there, and I did for over a year, but can only remember the last couple of days. I'm not even sure if we saw a kangaroo.

-o0o-

We were standing in the street, Jean and I, and Hermione and Ron were in front of us. For some reason they were hugging, laughing and crying all at once. I realised that I didn't know where I was, which wasn't a great surprise, because it was a small town north of Melbourne, and not Surrey.

We went to a nearby café where Hermione started to explain what had happened, and why we had ended up where we were. They'd tracked us down by using wizard contacts in Australia. We decided fairly quickly that we would go to Melbourne the next day and start arranging flights home.

'We'll see if there are some rooms at our hotel for you for tonight.'

'It's OK, dad, we've already booked a room.'

I wasn't a dad for nothing; I picked up the key words. 'What do you mean, "a" room? Ouch!' That last bit was because Jean had kicked me under the table, quite hard actually.

'They've travelled 12,000 miles, I'm sure they're perfectly capable of sorting out their own accommodation.'

I looked across, Hermione was blushing furiously, and Ron was looking a bit nervous, which was gratifying.

Whilst trying to sort out the flights, I did manage to get Ron on his own and given him the old "Are your intentions towards my daughter strictly honourable" interrogation. I'd always wanted to do that. To be fair to him, he did well. There was no doubt he loved her, and had come close to losing her on enough occasions that he wasn't going to risk it again. I think they'll be alright.

-o0o-

We arrived back in Britain, and tried to pick up the pieces of our lives. For her age, Hermione had organised things quite efficiently. The house was still there, for a start, though my eyes started watering when I saw what the mortgage repayments were now. The practice was doing well; the dentist "we" had brought in was good at his job and popular with the patients. Jean wanted to slow down a bit, so we sold half to him and she retired. He'll probably buy the rest in a couple of years when I decide to go. The money certainly helped reduce the debt to a manageable level. Of course the pension fund was untouched, so we'll be fine.

It was time for Hermione and Ron to move on as well. She started working for the Ministry, and has done very well there. She moving up the ladder and the smart money says she'll continue to climb, maybe right to the very top. It's generally acknowledged she's the smartest witch of her generation. Of course, it does help having the Minister of Magic as a former comrade-in-arms.

Ron went to help his brother in his business for a few years, and then went in to the Ministry as well to become an auror. Harry is his boss, so it's just like being back at school, only they've got even more rules they can break and bigger trouble to get in to.

Now Hermione and Ron are married, and can look forward to a life together, and we can look forward to some grandchildren, which will be nice. I know Arthur and Molly want the same, even though they've got a few already. We still see them quite regularly at "The Burrow" and they've visited us a few times as well. Arthur's fascinated by anything electrical; he loves our CD player and computer. We got him one of these "build your own electronics" sets for his birthday last year and he was thrilled.

-o0o-

We occasionally go to events with Hermione, if Ron is working away from home for example. When people get to know who we are, they tend to say 'You must be very proud.' We are, but perhaps not the way they imagine.

It's not the fact that Hermione is one of "The Golden Trio", or even that she is the youngest ever female recipient of the "Order of Merlin (1st Class)" in history.

No, we're proud of her because she is intelligent and works hard and has made the most of her opportunities. We are proud because she will stand up for what she believes, and will defend the rights of others. We're proud because, when the going got tough, she stayed loyal to her friends and fought along side them, knowing the risks.

We're proud because, when all is said and done, she is Hermione - our daughter.


End file.
